


The Best Laid Plans

by Yassandra



Category: Atlantis (UK TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, What could possibly go wrong? With our three - anything!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 09:36:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6149287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yassandra/pseuds/Yassandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hercules," he said softly, before his older friend could say anything more. "Something is clearly very wrong here. Whatever that spell was it is obvious that he was not as immune to it as we had thought." </p><p>An impromptu hunting trip, an injured magical creature and a witch. What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> A/N Well here I am again! This has been written for the February Amnesty Challenge for Hurt/Comfort Bingo to cover the prompts: loss of job/income, mercy killing, magical trouble and cursed (wild card).
> 
> I hope you all enjoy - let me know if you do! :-)

 

 

 

 

* * *

_The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men_

_Gang aft agley_

_(The best laid schemes of mice and men_

_Go often askew)_

_(Robert Burns – Tae a Moose)_

* * *

"Boys, come on… talk to me. Pythagoras. Jason. Boys!"

Hercules was definitely whining now, Pythagoras thought somewhat uncharitably; his voice taking on that plaintive, complaining tone that was almost guaranteed to annoy the mathematician. He turned away and carried on setting up his bed roll, noting with a half-smile that Jason was doing the same, his back to Hercules.

Task finished, Pythagoras moved to the centre of the small camp they had set up and began to lay out his cooking utensils; placing a small ring of stones to contain the small cooking fire he would start as soon as he had the wood. As though he had read Pythagoras' mind, Jason appeared at the mathematician's shoulder, offering up a weak smile as Pythagoras turned to look at him.

"I'm just going to go and get some wood," the young hero said softly.

Pythagoras smiled. It was very useful at times that he and Jason were so tuned in to one another.

"Try not to stumble across any monsters or bandits or anything else that might be out there," he admonished teasingly.

Of course he was only half joking – Jason's propensity for finding trouble was only surpassed by his ability to get them out of it again.

Jason grinned.

"I'll try to be careful," he said, ghosting out of the camp on silent feet.

That left Pythagoras alone with the now sulking Hercules. The burly wrestler hated to be ignored and giving him the cold shoulder was guaranteed to upset him. But really he deserved it this time, Pythagoras thought crossly. They wouldn't be out here in the woods at all if it weren't for Hercules. No, they would all be at home, enjoying a relaxed evening of one sort or another – whether it was in a friendly but raucous tavern or just quietly talking at home, perhaps telling stories or simply comfortable in one another's company. Still, the young genius nearly relented when he saw the miserable expression on his old friend's face. He hated to see anyone upset or unhappy. Then he thought about the fact that once again he was having to sleep on the hard ground rather than his nice, comfortable bed and his resolve hardened once more.

By the time Jason reappeared with an armful of wood (and just how _did_ he move so quietly?), Pythagoras had the rest of their camp set up – save for Hercules' bed roll that was. If he had been feeling a little less annoyed with his older friend he might have laid it out for him, but as it was Pythagoras decided to leave Hercules to his own devices.

He smiled his thanks to Jason for the wood and quickly set about lighting the fire. Before long he had a small but crackling blaze going and a pan hanging from a tripod he had constructed out of branches bubbling over the top of it. Of course, thanks in no small part to Hercules, the pan only contained a few dried beans and some water – nowhere near enough to feed three grown men really – but it was all the food they had left. He glared accusingly at the burly wrestler.

For once Hercules had the good grace to look embarrassed. That wouldn't stop him trying to take the lion's share of the meagre meal Pythagoras knew, but for once he had no intention of letting the big man get away with it.

"Is that all there is?" Hercules complained, peering into the pot.

"Yes," Pythagoras answered primly – despite his earlier resolve not to speak to Hercules at all. "Thanks to you that _is_ all there is."

"Have the pair of you decided to stop sulking and start talking to me now?" Hercules rumbled, clearly feeling aggrieved.

Pythagoras felt his irritation towards his oldest friend growing once more. Neither he nor Jason had actually really spoken to Hercules since first thing this morning when the consequences of his actions had come to light – but it was all Hercules' own fault, Pythagoras reminded himself firmly.

"Why should we?" Jason asked, and Pythagoras nearly winced at how frosty he sounded.

"We all make mistakes," Hercules answered.

"Some of us more than others," Pythagoras interjected.

"Look… we can all stand around here debating whose fault this is," Hercules began.

"There's no debate," Jason interrupted. "It's your fault."

"Ah… but is it?"

"Yes," Jason said.

"Completely," Pythagoras agreed. "Or perhaps you will claim that someone else came into our house, stole the last of our money – money that he and I," he gestured towards Jason, "had managed to scrape together to buy some food… which was a necessity given that we had no food left in the house save for a handful of beans – spent said money on wine, got drunk, lost the cargo that we were supposed to be guarding between us, tried to hit the merchant who owned the cargo for suggesting that we had stolen it and then got us all the sack."

"Well when you put it like that…" Hercules started.

"Between his dog antics," Pythagoras went on, in full flow now, gesturing wildly towards Jason again, "and your drunkenness, we will soon be unemployable in Atlantis… and then what will we do? We do not manage to find work often enough as it is."

"Sorry," Jason murmured quietly.

Pythagoras mentally sighed. It was obvious that Jason was embarrassed that his sojourn as a Kynikos was being brought up again and was _still_ feeling guilty about what had happened two months after the event. It had not been his intention to make Jason feel bad, however – although a little more contrition over today's events from Hercules would be nice, the young genius decided.

"You were cursed," he murmured (resolutely ignoring the fact that the curse had been a direct result of Jason's own actions – after all even a child of three would know not to commit sacrilege by taking an offering meant for the Gods). "It was not entirely your fault. You were not in control of your own actions… whereas Hercules most certainly knew exactly what he was doing when he chose to drink."

Jason grimaced.

"I may not have known that taking that offering would get me cursed but I _do_ know that stealing is wrong," he answered softly.

"And it is not a mistake you will repeat again," Pythagoras replied kindly. "Hercules, on the other hand, has done this to me on many occasions and _never_ seems to learn! I am sick of it! You are a drunken fool," he said, jabbing one finger at Hercules' broad chest, "and I am ashamed to call you my friend."

"Pythagoras," Hercules said in consternation.

"No, Hercules," Pythagoras answered. "You have gone too far this time. I am tired of starving because _you_ cannot stay sober. I have watched you drinking or gambling away all our money; I have put you to bed when you were too drunk to find your own way there; I have paid your debts; I have gone without too often because of your thoughtlessness; and I am tired. This is the last straw. It is not enough that you have lost us our jobs – our only source of income; that we are once again close to starvation because of your antics; but now Pyrrhus is demanding that we pay for the cargo that you failed to protect… and I cannot see how we will do that."

"Pyrrhus?" Jason asked.

"The merchant whose cargo we were protecting." Pythagoras was using his 'you ought to know this' tone again – the one he seemed to use frequently when he thought Jason was being a bit dense. Much as he knew his friend wasn't stupid (no matter what Hercules said), it did still startle him at times to realise just how unobservant and oblivious to his surroundings Jason could be.

"Oh. I never actually caught his name." Jason gave an embarrassed little laugh.

"So we have no money, no food and no job thanks to you," Pythagoras went on, rounding on Hercules again, " _and_ we somehow have to find the means to pay for a cargo of _expensive_ spices… and not content with that you even manage to ruin the day's hunting – a day which, let me remind you, we would not even have had to spend hunting if you had not managed to lose us our jobs! We would have had plenty of money to purchase food if you had managed to stay sober last night and had not fallen asleep on the job."

"Look. I'm sorry about the job," Hercules grumbled, "but I don't see how you can blame me for not managing to find any game today."

Pythagoras took a deep breath, clearly trying to keep a grip on his temper.

"Yes," he said. "Game in this forest is scarce but you have not helped. The one time we actually saw some birds, you not only failed to spot them but chose that precise moment to start bemoaning the fact that you were hungry – as if you had not eaten _all_ the berries off that bush we had found earlier and which we should have shared, and as if we were not _all_ hungry! You are without doubt the most inconsiderate fool I have ever met."

"Pythagoras." Jason's voice was soft and placating as he laid a hand on his friend's arm. "I know you're angry but don't say something you'll regret later."

Pythagoras sighed and patted the hand that lay on his arm.

"You are right," he murmured. "I am hungry, tired and irritable. It is making me a little unreasonable. Things will undoubtedly look better in the morning and I am sure we will find a way to placate Pyrrhus." He turned to Jason. "Perhaps if you and I were to go to him and to offer to work for free until the debt is paid off… although I do not think he would happy to see _you_ again," he added with another hard look at Hercules, "and you need not think that I have forgiven you yet either… but we will eat what food we have and sleep, and no doubt tomorrow will be a better day. If you truly regret your actions today, then you can take the first watch tonight."

* * *

The night had passed pretty uneventfully in the end – which, given their track record as a trio, was pretty good going, Jason decided as he moved through the trees on silent feet, bow clasped loosely in his hand (but ready to be drawn the instant he saw anything worth shooting). Behind him, he heard Pythagoras swearing softly as he stumbled over a tree root and smiled to himself. While the atmosphere had still been a little strained this morning (Pythagoras was apparently still a little cross at Hercules over everything that had happened yesterday), it was clear that the young genius was well on his way to forgiving his old friend and their banter was getting back to normal once more (although it did, perhaps, contain more bite than usual – at least on Pythagoras' part). For his part, Jason had actually forgiven Hercules last night – after all it wasn't as if he'd never made mistakes himself (Pythagoras reminding him of the 'rabid dog incident' had brought his own feelings of guilt back into his mind with a shudder) and everyone deserved a second chance after all (although in Hercules' case it was probably more like a fifteenth chance – and that was just the times that Jason knew about). Still, the mathematician had been friends with the burly wrestler for far longer than Jason had and had had much more to put up with too. If he found it a little more difficult to forgive Hercules' latest excesses, then really Jason couldn't blame him.

"Are we hunting or wool-gathering?" Hercules' gruff question sounded closer to Jason's ear than he was expecting, and he turned with a start to discover that his older friend was right on his shoulder and that he had somehow stopped without realising it, lost in his own thoughts.

"Sorry," he muttered with embarrassment.

Hercules snorted lightly, clapped him once on the shoulder (hard enough that Jason's eyes nearly started watering) and pushed past to continue the hunt.

Jason turned to see Pythagoras looking at him curiously (as though he were a particularly difficult maths problem, Jason's mind supplied unhelpfully). He grinned ruefully at the mathematician and shrugged before turning back to join Hercules in searching for their dinner.

Several hours (and three rabbits) later, spirits were somewhat higher than they had been for the last day or so. Pythagoras seemed to have finally forgotten his ire at Hercules (he was really too kind to hold a grudge after all) and the thought that they would actually eat fairly well tonight had cheered them all up no end. Now that they had caught something the immediate urgency had gone out of their hunting, although they were still on the lookout for more – meat that could be dried or salted to preserve it for the coming days would be good.

A sudden, loud crash in the bushes ahead startled them all and for a few moments none of them moved, wary of what might lie ahead. The sound had seemed too loud to be an animal to Jason's (admittedly inexperienced) ears and he peered ahead, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Come on," Hercules growled, forging ahead. "That sounds like an enormous boar. We can't let it get away."

"Hercules! Wait!" Jason hissed.

"That does not sound like any boar I have ever heard," Pythagoras said at the same time.

Hercules either didn't hear them or chose not to listen as he plunged through the bushes. The two boys exchanged a worried look before ploughing after their older friend.

The clearing they burst into was huge – as was the creature that lay in the middle of it.

"What _is_ that?" Jason asked, his eyes wide.

"I believe it is a gryphon," Pythagoras answered in an awed tone. "They are remarkable creatures but are almost never seen."

"They are said to guard great treasures," Hercules added. "Those talons can rip a man's belly out before he even knew it had happened."

"I don't think that one's going to be ripping anything apart anytime soon," Jason murmured. "I think it's hurt."

All three men peered at the creature. The gryphon lay unmoving in the clearing, body twisted over to one side, watching them balefully with one large golden eye.

Jason shoved the arrow he had nocked back into the quiver that rested diagonally across his back and slung the bow over his shoulder. Without really knowing what he was doing he stepped forwards.

"Jason!" Both his friends hissed sharply at the same time.

"What are you doing?" Pythagoras asked urgently.

"That thing's dangerous," Hercules agreed.

"It's alright," Jason said softly.

The gryphon struggled to turn its head to look at him full on. The expression in its endless golden eyes took Jason's breath away.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he murmured, placing his bow down on the ground and moving forwards slowly; inching closer to the creature step by step.

The gryphon gave a funny sort of sigh and laid its head down on its front legs, as though it didn't have the energy to keep it raised any more.

Jason crouched down and reached out one hand in wonder, burying his fingers in the soft, warm feathers on the creature's head and petting it gently.

"That thing could have your arm off any second now," Hercules exclaimed. "Get away from it."

"It's alright," Jason repeated softly. "It's not going to hurt me. It _is_ hurt though," he added looking down the length of the gryphon's body and taking in the amount of blood soaking the floor of the clearing where the creature lay with a faint shudder.

He looked back towards his friends.

"We need to help," he said urgently to Pythagoras.

Swallowing hard and trying not to show the fear he felt Pythagoras stepped forwards, joining Jason alongside the gryphon while Hercules hung back at the edge of the clearing. The creature was truly magnificent but Pythagoras couldn't help worrying about the damage it could inflict with one swipe of those razor sharp talons or one strike of its hooked beak. After all an injured animal of any kind was unpredictable and when one factored in the size of the gryphon, inspecting and potentially treating its wound could be distinctly hazardous. Pythagoras fought the urge to yank his ridiculously heroic friend back out of harm's way (petting a potentially dangerous and large creature? _Really_? Sometimes Pythagoras couldn't help wondering if Jason was entirely sane). Swallowing down his trepidation, he moved to see where all the blood was coming from.

"Be ready to run," he said tightly, glancing across at his friend. "Injured creatures will sometimes lash out."

Jason nodded almost absently, but continued to stroke the creature's head, hands buried deeply in the silken feathers.

Pythagoras sighed and turned his attention back to the creature's abdomen. After a moment he sat back and sighed, both horrified and infinitely saddened by what he had found.

"There is nothing I can do," he said quietly. "The wound is a fatal one and, even if it were not, the creature has lost too much blood to survive. It is simply too weak."

"Are you absolutely sure?" Jason asked.

"I am truly sorry," Pythagoras confirmed. "There really is nothing that any of us can do."

"Actually there is something we can do," Hercules rumbled, finally coming forwards to join his two friends.

"And suddenly you are an expert in the healing arts," Pythagoras scoffed.

"No," Hercules agreed, "and I don't claim to be. Physiciany things are your thing… but there _is_ something that we can do for this poor beast."

"What exactly are you talking about?" Pythagoras asked.

"I'm talking about putting it out of its misery," Hercules growled. "It's in pain and it's dying. I can end it quickly and with very little pain… and at least it wouldn't be suffering anymore." He drew his sword and looked seriously at his two younger friends. "Step back," he instructed.

It was all over remarkably quickly and peacefully in the end. Hercules turned back away from the now still gryphon with his sword still dripping in his hand.

"Let's go," he said softly.

As he stepped back towards his friends, an enraged and distraught scream sounded from the other side of the clearing. All three men turned to see a woman dart across to the gryphon, shaking uncontrollably and spitting curses.

"Now what?" Hercules demanded.

"I think you may have just killed her pet," Pythagoras answered.

"I was trying to stop it from suffering anymore," Hercules protested.

"I know that," Pythagoras replied, "but I am not sure that _she_ does."

Hercules took a step forwards, hands raised placatingly.

"Murderer!" the woman hissed at him. "You will pay for this."

"It was already injured when we got here," Hercules objected. "It was dying. I helped it. Stopped it from a slow, painful death."

The woman glared at him with wild eyes, her gaze darting between the still gryphon, the sword in Hercules' hand and the spear he had carried earlier that lay almost forgotten on the floor of the clearing near his feet.

"You did this," she spat. "You attacked him and you killed him."

"No," Jason protested gently. "We found him injured. We only wanted to help."

The woman turned her wild eyes on him for a moment before returning her concentration to Hercules.

"You will suffer for this, murderer," she almost screamed. "You will all suffer."

Producing a small clay figure from somewhere inside her clothing, she muttered a quick and unintelligible incantation. Before Hercules could move a blast of power hurtled towards him as he stood with his mouth hanging open slightly in surprise. The blast never hit him. Instead, Hercules found himself thrown sideways; pushed off balance unexpectedly to land in a heap on the floor of the clearing.

As soon as Jason had seen the witch fire the blast at Hercules he had sprung towards his friend, his hands catching Hercules in the centre of the back and shoving the older man out of the way. Then a golden light had enveloped the young man; sound exploding in his ears and a starburst of flame searing his vision. By the time some semblance of sight and sound returned, he was kneeling on the floor of the clearing on his hands and knees, shaking with the aftershocks of whatever the hell it was that had hit him.

"Jay-son. Are you all-right?" Pythagoras' words sounded slurred; his voice drawling strangely.

Jason shook his head, dog-like, to try to clear the sun-discs from in front of his eyes. The world smeared and blurred, Pythagoras splitting into two and then four.

Hercules sprang forwards with a roar, sword no longer clasped loosely in his hand but ready to use, murder in his eyes. The witch vanished.

The four Pythagoras' that Jason could see reached towards him and then rocked back with a wince as a shock of static electricity arced from the hero to their outstretched hands. Time seemed to squish and melt together; the world becoming an abstract painting around Jason.

"The trick is," Mac said leaning back against the back of the couch, "to follow _all_ the clues to find the wreck. How many times have I told you that?"

Jason frowned at the tree that seemed to be growing behind the sofa.

"Why have you got a tree in the living room?" he asked.

( _"Jason. Jason, what is wrong?" Pythagoras' voice was muffled and faint_.)

"Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made," Mac intoned gravely.

"Yes I know," Jason agreed.

( _"Hercules, help me get him over there."_ )

"You won't find him on the sea floor… and you won't find him in here either," Mac said, shaking a bottle that seemed to have appeared in his hand.

Jason peered at it. At first glance it looked like the ship in a bottle he had built as a kid (nine years old and using way too much glue). It had been more of a shapeless blob than the frigate it was supposed to be but Mac had seemed pleased when he had been presented with it as a Christmas present.

This ship, though, was a trireme, finely carved and highly coloured, and Jason wondered both where Mac had got it and just how it had got in through the narrow neck of the bottle.

"This is your destiny," Mac said solemnly, giving the bottle another shake.

( _"This way… that's it… just sit down here."_ )

Mac dragged his eyes from the bottle to glare disapprovingly at him and Jason followed his gaze down to his breastplate and on to the sword that he didn't remember drawing but was holding loosely. He shrugged.

"Everyone wears this sort of thing," he muttered self-consciously.

"Well it certainly isn't Calvin Klein," Mac snorted (which Jason felt was distinctly unfair coming from a man who had always dressed for comfort rather than style). "And prop that sword up in the corner – the police'll have you if you take _that_ down to Asda."

( _"Jason? Can you hear me? What in the name of the Gods has she done to you?"_ )

"Why would I be going to Asda?"

"You're out of loo roll," Mac answered flatly. "Besides, you need something to get blood out of the bathroom carpet. I got rid of the dead chickens for you."

"What chickens?"

"The one's you killed and left in the bath," Mac replied as though it was the most logical thing in the world. "Your landlord's still kicking you out though."

Jason sighed.

"Unpaid rent?" he asked.

"The half-eaten goat on the front lawn," Mac answered reproachfully. "Most people would cook it first," he added.

"I was cursed," Jason objected sharply.

( _"It is alright, my friend. Just calm down and come back to us."_ )

The room swayed and melted again; the couch and trees moulding together to form a Salvador Dali-esque blur. Mac smiled, his features blurring and morphing even as Jason looked.

"I was cursed," Jason repeated, almost desperately, to the blue eyes that suddenly appeared in front of him, willing the world to stop lurching sickeningly.

"Yes, I believe you might have been," Pythagoras murmured, his eyes searching and hands holding Jason's face on either side, fingers splayed across his friend's cheeks.

Jason drew a shuddering breath and struggled slightly to escape Pythagoras' grasp, trying to push himself to his feet from where he was folded on the ground, his back against a tree.

"Hush, my friend," Pythagoras said softly. "Just sit still. There are no enemies here. Just rest until I know what has been done to you."

Jason drew in another great gulp of air.

"What happened?" he asked.

Pythagoras heaved a sigh of relief. The change from confusion to lucidity was abrupt but it had not come soon enough for the young genius.

"You're an idiot. That's what happened," Hercules rumbled gruffly from somewhere behind the mathematician.

"What?" Jason said, still trying to clear his head.

"What do you remember?" Pythagoras asked carefully.

Jason thought for a moment.

"Erm… we were hunting?" he asked. "Hercules had got drunk and we'd lost the jobs he'd arranged," he added with more certainty as his mind became clearer.

Hercules cleared his throat and shuffled awkwardly.

"There was a creature – you said it was a gryphon – and it was hurt," Jason went on. "It was dying so Hercules tried to stop it from suffering and killed it. Only then this woman came along and she was screaming and accusing you of murder. She had a doll or figure of some sort in her hand… and then there was a bright light and everything gets a bit fuzzy after that."

"I am not surprised," Pythagoras said primly. "It appears that the woman was a witch and she cast some sort of spell at Hercules… only you decided to push him out of the way and took the full force of the curse, or spell, or whatever it was she cast. I suspect that for the last several minutes you have been seeing things that were not truly there – hallucinating." He peered into Jason's face. "At least your eyes are returning to normal now."

"My eyes?" Jason asked.

"Yes," Pythagoras confirmed. "Your pupils were so dilated that your eyes appeared to be black but they are gradually returning to normal."

Jason grunted and let his eyes fall closed for a moment or two, breathing deeply and trying to shake off the last vestiges of unreality that seemed to be clinging to him and leaving him feeling faintly unbalanced. The longer he stayed sitting, the more vulnerable he felt. Pulling himself together, he started to push up from the ground.

"I think perhaps you should stay where you are until we are sure what the effects of the spell are and that they have worn off," Pythagoras suggested worriedly.

"I'm fine," Jason muttered. In truth he actually felt a little dizzy and rested one hand on the tree trunk to help him get his balance.

"But…"

"You heard the man, he's fine," Hercules grunted. "Now do you think we can move on?"

"Hercules we do not know that he really is fine," Pythagoras snapped. "I simply cannot believe that the witch would have cast a spell at you with so little effect. After all she said that you would suffer… she said that we would all suffer… and a short period of confusion and hallucination hardly seems likely to fulfil that threat."

"Well maybe she just wasn't a very talented witch," Hercules returned. "Or maybe what she did just didn't affect _him_. After all he's the only one we know that can look at Medusa and not be turned to stone. Maybe this is the same sort of thing."

"Maybe," Pythagoras acknowledged.

"Maybe you should both stop talking about me as though I wasn't here," Jason interjected testily. He turned to Pythagoras. "I really am fine," he said. "Little bit dizzy, slight headache… that's all."

Pythagoras worried at his lip thoughtfully.

"Very well," he acknowledged, resolving to keep a close eye on Jason whether he liked it or not. "I would be happier if we looked for somewhere to set up camp for the night though. I know it is early but we are far enough away from the city that we will be unable to return home today. Tonight we should have a good meal and a good night's sleep. We can hunt again before we return home tomorrow."

Hercules looked steadily at him and then eyed Jason, still holding onto the tree trunk and looking more than a little shaky despite his protestations that he was fine.

"Fair enough," he said. "I think I saw a pretty good site a little way back from here." He looked at Jason seriously. "Now's not the time for heroics," he said. "If you need help say so."

"I'm fine," Jason repeated with exasperation. "Let's go."

* * *

Supper was a far more awkward experience than Pythagoras had been expecting. Over the last few months he had grown used to (and come to enjoy) the evenings he spent with his friends sitting around a campfire and exchanging stories; reliving the exhilarating or (at the time) terrifying moments of their latest adventures or misadventures; sharing reminiscences; laughing, joking and teasing one another. Tonight though, Jason was subdued – distracted even – and had retreated into himself in a way that Pythagoras hadn't seen him do in months – not since the early days after his arrival in their home when the mathematician would sometimes catch his friend sitting out on the balcony staring off into space, lost in his own head. At the time he had worried that Jason was homesick and had tried to do everything in his power to make his friend feel comfortable and at home with them. The longer he had stayed in Atlantis (stayed with them), the less frequently it had happened, but this evening it was happening again.

Pythagoras worried at his lip and glanced sideways at Hercules before turning his attention back to their currently silent companion, who was sitting staring into the fire with his knees pulled up and his arms wrapped around them.

"Are you alright?" Pythagoras asked softly.

He got no response from Jason and glanced at Hercules again, trying to gauge whether the older man was as concerned as he was.

"Jason are you alright?" he tried again, touching his friend's shoulder.

Jason jumped at the touch and turned to look at Pythagoras with wide eyes.

"Erm… Yeah," he said. "Sorry. I was… thinking." He sounded vaguely uncertain somehow, as though he wasn't entirely sure what he had been doing himself.

"What were you thinking about?" Pythagoras prompted gently.

"Oh… erm… nothing much." Jason gave a strained little laugh. "Just today… it was… weird, you know?"

"Do you wish to talk about it?" Pythagoras asked with genuine curiosity.

"No," Jason answered. "No, I… I don't." He hesitated for a moment. "Actually I'm really tired. Would you guys mind if I got some sleep now and took a later watch tonight?"

"Of course not," Pythagoras answered before Hercules could speak. "That will not be a problem at all. Sleep well, my friend."

Jason sighed gratefully, stretched out onto his blankets and closed his eyes, his breathing settling into the soft rhythms of sleep in a few short minutes.

Both his friends sat around the still crackling camp fire in silence for a time, at peace in one another's company.

"He saved my life today, didn't he?" Hercules rumbled at length.

"I think it is more than possible that today he saved your life _again_ ," Pythagoras replied. "It is becoming an all too regular occurrence."

" _That_ is a matter for debate," Hercules growled gruffly.

"Is it?" Pythagoras asked pointedly.

"No," Hercules admitted grudgingly.

"He has saved our lives more times than I care to remember."

"I know," Hercules replied, looking across the campfire at their sleeping housemate. No-one could exasperate Hercules more than Jason, with his ridiculous self-sacrificing heroism and stubborn nature, and yet he had grown remarkably attached to the boy in a relatively short time. "I was thinking," he went on. "Maybe we shouldn't wake him up tonight."

"Let him sleep through you mean?" Pythagoras queried. "Yes, I think that would be a good idea." He smiled gently.

"I'll take first watch," Hercules announced, eyeing up the remains of supper in the pan hanging over the fire.

Pythagoras followed his gaze to the pan and grinned knowingly, although he chose not to say anything.

"Get some sleep," Hercules growled.

He watched as Pythagoras settled down on his blankets, smiling affectionately behind the young genius' back. As soon as he was certain Pythagoras was asleep, he reached for the pan over the fire. It was going to be a long night with just the two of them taking turns to watch and he would need sustenance to see him through.

* * *

The morning dawned with a pale light but the promise of stifling heat later in the day. Pythagoras rubbed his gritty eyes and stretched. Perhaps if they were successful in hunting again today, they might go home later and spend tonight in their own beds. That would be nice. For all that he didn't mind being away from home there really was nothing like his own bed for comfort.

On the far side of the burned out fire Hercules was snoring, sounding very much like a half-strangled pig. Pythagoras shook his head in amusement. Hercules refused to believe that he snored at all and was quite vociferous in his denials. Sometimes the young blonde wished there was some way that he could capture the sound – if only so that Hercules would have to face the truth.

"…Ughhhhh."

Pythagoras turned back with a smile as Jason grumbled his way into wakefulness. He and Hercules had done as they had discussed and not bothered to wake Jason up to take a turn on watch. As far as Pythagoras was aware that meant that their housemate had managed to sleep through the night undisturbed. Certainly, Jason had been asleep the whole time that Pythagoras had been on guard. There had been a brief period as the night had waned when the young hero had begun to mumble unintelligibly in his sleep. Pythagoras had been a little concerned at the time (especially since he had little reason to believe that talking in his sleep was in any way a usual occurrence for his friend) but as Jason had settled back into deep sleep fairly quickly the mathematician had written it off as a random occurrence, probably borne of the stress of the previous day.

"Good morning," he said brightly.

Jason rubbed his eyes and sat up, turning his gaze from his younger friend to look around the clearing with apparent confusion, his lips half forming a question that he didn't give voice to.

"What is wrong my friend?" Pythagoras asked, as Hercules began to shake himself awake.

"Nothing," Jason answered vaguely. "Where's my father?" he added, his eyes darting around the clearing once again.

Pythagoras frowned, the first inklings of disquiet beginning to creep into his mind.

"Your father?" he asked gently. "Jason, the Oracle told you that your father is dead. She told you this several months ago. Don't you remember?"

Jason closed his eyes, his brow furrowing.

"Yes… yes of course," he replied. "I remember now. Sorry. Stupid of me."

Pythagoras' sense of disquiet grew. He scrambled across the campsite and crouched in front of his friend, placing his hands firmly on Jason's shoulders. From the corner of his eye he saw the still only half awake Hercules drawing nearer too.

"Are you alright?" Pythagoras asked, for what felt like the umpteenth time since their encounter with the witch the day before.

Jason opened his eyes and blinked at Pythagoras, a look of vague confusion settling over his features.

"Yeah… I think so," he answered. "I'm not entirely sure… I feel… odd."

"In what way do you feel odd?" Pythagoras asked, still holding his friend's shoulders.

"Dunno. Just odd… strange," Jason replied vaguely. His eyes roved randomly around the clearing. "Where am I?" he asked plaintively.

"Where are you?" Hercules asked incredulously. "You know where you are!"

"Hercules," Pythagoras admonished quickly and sharply. He turned back to Jason. "We are hunting. Remember?"

"Hunting?" Jason responded skeptically. "As in trying to kill defenseless animals? Why the hell would I be hunting?"

"For food?" Hercules replied, clearly wondering why he was having to point out the obvious to his friend.

Jason looked at him blankly.

"What is this place?" he murmured, eyes roaming around once more.

Pythagoras could plainly see the tension in his younger friend's shoulders; the faint air of fear in every line of his body.

"Hercules," he said softly, before his older friend could say anything more. "Something is clearly very wrong here. Whatever that spell was it is obvious that he was not as immune to it as we had thought." He caught Jason's eyes, trying not to cringe at the confusion he saw in them. "Something _has_ happened to you," he added gently. "We just need to work out what that something is. I believe we should return home and try to find some answers."

"Home?" Jason said sounding horribly bewildered. "I don't…? Where…? I don't… remember…"

"You do not remember home?" Pythagoras clarified. At Jason's swift head shake, his frown and his fear grew deeper. "You do not remember Atlantis," he added to himself.

"I'm sorry," Jason answered in a small voice.

Pythagoras looked at him seriously.

"Do you remember your home before you came to Atlantis?" he asked urgently. " _Think_ Jason. This might be important."

Jason bit his lip.

"No," he answered, his voice small and more than a little frightened. "I'm sorry. I don't really remember anything."

"You don't remember us either, do you?" Pythagoras breathed, gesturing towards Hercules and himself with one hand.

"I'm sorry," Jason repeated. "You seem nice and you know my name but I don't really know who you are."

For a moment Pythagoras felt as though someone had punched him in the stomach. One swift look towards Hercules told him that the burly wrestler was feeling much the same way. Seeing how upset Jason looked, the young genius quickly rallied.

"It does not matter, my friend," he answered softly. "We will find a way to fix this."

"You call me friend?"

"Yes I do," Pythagoras confirmed. "You are one of my closest friends… and I only have two close friends. Now, tell me exactly what you do remember. It might help us to understand a little more of what is going on."

Jason closed his eyes for a moment, clearly thinking hard. His breathing sped up and his eyes sprang open, going as wide as Pythagoras had ever seen them. He clutched at the mathematician's arm almost desperately as panic began to set in.

"Breathe," Pythagoras instructed gently, rubbing comfortingly up and down his friend's arms.

"You don't understand," Jason replied urgently; breathlessly. "I don't remember _anything_. I know my name and I sort of remember my father – that I need to find him – but everything else is blank. Can you help me? I need to find my father. Please. I want my Dad."

* * *

"Well?" Hercules asked, masking his concern with gruffness.

They hadn't made it far from the small clearing where they had set up camp the previous night in spite of Pythagoras' earlier intentions to get home as quickly as possible to try to find answers about what was affecting Jason. It had become obvious as the morning had passed that the witch's spell was gradually robbing Jason of even the most basic and fundamental parts of his character and abilities, as well as his memories. It had rapidly become clear that one of the other two needed to watch him at all times to make sure that he didn't wander off as his confusion grew and when it had become noticeable that the young hero couldn't even walk in a straight line without tripping over his own feet, Pythagoras had called a halt to reassess matters.

"I do not know," Pythagoras answered with desperation in his voice. "I simply do not know. Jason does not know where or who he is and I do not think that he is in any way capable of looking after himself in this state. I fear that he would not remember even the most basic of his own needs like eating or sleeping. I do not know if it is a spell or a curse that is affecting him and I don't have the first idea of how to fix this."

"What in the name of the Gods did that witch hope to achieve with this?" Hercules demanded. "It's not the most obvious of curses."

"No," Pythagoras replied. "But it is insidious." He looked at his friend. "You must remember that the spell was aimed at you and not Jason."

"So?" Hercules said.

"I believe that she saw the sword in your hand and the weapons by your side and believed that as you began to hallucinate you would lash out, forcing Jason and I to defend ourselves with the risk that either one of us would be injured or killed, or that we would be forced to kill or incapacitate you. Even if that did not happen, I believe that she thought that as your memories faded and you became more confused there was a chance you would become increasingly violent… many men would."

"I would _never_ hurt either one of you boys no matter how confused I was," Hercules answered hotly.

" _I know that_ ," Pythagoras answered reassuringly. "But she had no way of knowing that you were not the sort of man who would _ever_ react in that way. I think it is a testament to Jason's character that he is not that sort of man either. That in spite of the violence in our lives he is still remarkably gentle – as are you."

Hercules looked away, blinking rapidly in the face of Pythagoras' words.

"Neither one of us will ever be as kind as you are though," he replied gruffly. "Now what do we do about this?"

"I am not sure," Pythagoras said, uncertainty creeping into his voice again. He looked across to where he had left the third member of their trio sitting, making sure that Jason hadn't moved from the spot he had told him to stay in. "For Jason to regain himself, the spell or curse must be broken but I am uncertain as to how to go about that and I do not have the facilities to search for answers out here. Yet I do not think that we will make it back to Atlantis with Jason as he is right now. I cannot give you the answer that you seek because I do not have it."

Hercules frowned thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing as he looked off into the distance.

"Just before she cast the spell, the witch produced a clay figure from somewhere," he said almost absently.

"What of it?" Pythagoras asked.

"I don't know," Hercules said crossly. "You're the clever one here. There's no man cleverer than you. You'll think of something… I know you will."

"Your faith in me may be misplaced, old friend," Pythagoras replied. "I don't have the first idea of where to begin."

"I don't suppose it would help if I suggested growing beards would it?" Hercules asked with a touch of wry humour.

Pythagoras huffed an incredulous laugh.

"When has your suggestion of growing beards at the first sign of trouble ever helped?" he snorted.

"True," Hercules responded.

Pythagoras turned away from him and began to pace up and down, casting occasional glances at the third member of their party. As the morning had gone on, Jason had become less and less responsive as the witch's spell had taken greater hold. Now he was sitting exactly where Pythagoras had left him, silent and still, his face lax and eyes devoid of all emotion; empty. Pythagoras shuddered and resumed his pacing.

Suddenly he stopped, nearly stumbling, as a thought slammed into him.

"Hercules you're brilliant!" he exclaimed, spinning back around to face his old friend and closing the gap between them with quick steps.

Hercules looked a little confused but quickly began to preen.

"I've always said that you boys don't appreciate me properly," he said.

Pythagoras rolled his eyes but didn't comment.

"You were right," he said, ignoring Hercules' preening. "Just before the witch cast her spell, she took out a clay figure… and I think it might be the key."

"Pythagoras, what in the name of the Gods are you talking about?" Hercules rumbled.

"There has to be a reason that she had that figure in her hands as she cast the spell," Pythagoras explained. "I believe that it may be the focus for the spell… that she was using it to cast. What if she tied it to the person she was cursing? Which we know was intended to be you but ended up as Jason. What if it is the existence of the clay doll that is… draining him – for want of a better word?"

Hercules frowned.

"You mean that all Jason's memories and personality and everything are being pulled into that clay doll?" he demanded.

"It is insane, I know," Pythagoras answered. "But it makes sense. If we can break the figurine, then hopefully Jason will be returned to himself."

"How sure are you of that?"

"I am not," Pythagoras admitted. "I am not sure of anything… but it _is_ a possibility." He sighed. "I am not sure that it is of much help to us though," he said. "After all we can hardly leave Jason alone out here while we go in search of the witch's clay figure… and we would have no idea where to look anyway."

Hercules didn't answer. Instead he checked his sword in its sheath, went over to his bag and pulled out an extra hunting knife, which he slipped into his belt, and turned back to his friend, grim determination written on his face.

"What are you doing?" Pythagoras demanded.

"You said we need to break that doll to get him back to normal," the burly wrestler said.

"I said it was a possibility," Pythagoras answered. "I do not _know_ that it will work… and you cannot go alone."

"And you cannot leave _him_ ," Hercules said with a nod towards Jason. "We cannot sit back and do nothing."

"So you mean to face the witch alone?"

"If I must."

"We do not even know where she is," Pythagoras protested. "We do not know where to start."

"I figured the place where we found that gryphon is probably a good place to start," Hercules answered. "If it was her pet then she's likely to live somewhere nearby."

"Hercules…"

"I'll return," Hercules promised. "You look after him, alright?"

He patted Pythagoras' shoulder, turned and walked away on swift feet before the mathematician could protest any further.

* * *

Why did witches always live in caves? Hercules wondered as he squeezed himself in through the narrow entrance. Did they have some sort of affinity with bats? There was no doubt in his mind that this cave was indeed the witch's lair (unless by some spectacularly bad luck he had stumbled on the home of another witch who just happened to live in the same general vicinity – which seemed unlikely but knowing the combined luck of him and his two friends was just possible) – if nothing else the presence of several decorated bones and what appeared to be a couple of skulls hanging outside the entrance loudly proclaimed the fact that a devotee of Hekate lived here.

The cave itself had been surprisingly easy to find. A little warning voice deep in Hercules' mind wondered if he should be suspicious of that. Having walked back to the clearing where they had found the gryphon the day before, Hercules had been more than a little startled to see the body of the great beast had vanished into thin air. Only a large pool of dried blood and an even larger area where the vegetation had been crushed by the gryphon's body indicated that it had ever been there. There had also been a trail of bloody footprints leading away from the site where the gryphon had lain and out of the clearing. The footprints had trailed off fairly quickly (Hercules was guessing that the woman hadn't had that much blood on her feet to start with and it had been wiped off as she had walked) but it was clear where their owner had gone from disturbances in the vegetation.

That had led him here. Hercules swore under his breath as he scraped his arm against the wall of the narrow passage that led into the cave, taking off a thin layer of skin as he went. The tightness of the aperture was more suited to Pythagoras' build than his own if the truth be told but if Hercules wanted to fix this situation he really did have to get inside.

The cave was dimly lit inside. Dim enough that the burly wrestler had to squint. His heart sank a little. He had been hoping that it would be empty – that the woman would be out doing witchy things (and Hercules had no real desire to know what sort of witchy things they might be) – but it seemed that his hope had been in vain. The woman was sitting on the floor of the cave with her back to him, her long hair brushing the floor. At first she gave no indication of knowing that she was not alone but as Hercules stepped silently forwards she looked up, although she did not turn around.

"So," she said, her voice soft and musical. "Not content with killing my only friend you have now come to take my life."

"I have come to right the wrong done to my friend," Hercules rumbled, automatically loosening his sword in its sheath in preparation for a fight.

"The boy who sacrificed himself by pushing you out of the way?" the woman said. "I meant him no real harm." She turned her head and shot a look at Hercules out of narrowed eyes. "I was aiming for _you_."

"I don't believe you," Hercules growled. "You're a witch! I don't trust your kind. I've had dealings with a witch before and no good came of it. You didn't care which of us you hurt."

"You are wrong," the woman answered. "I do not harm people indiscriminately. You murdered my only friend. I wished for revenge upon _you_."

"I didn't murder anyone," Hercules snapped. "The poor beast was dying. I just saved it from suffering and ended its misery."

"That is what you claim," the witch responded. She stood in one sinuous movement. "Tell me," she went on, circling Hercules carefully, "why should I restore your friend to you when mine was taken from me?"

"Because he has done no wrong," Hercules grated. "He is a good person and doesn't deserve what you have done to him."

"There are few who truly deserve their fates," the woman said with her eyes downcast. "I was just a girl when I realised that Hekate responded to my prayers… that I had powers beyond those of ordinary people. I only wished to help my neighbours… my village. I used my power to help them grow better crops but soon there wasn't a child that took sick or a hen that stopped laying that wasn't blamed upon me. Eventually my friends – the people I had grown up with and loved – tried to kill me… and so I have lived here in seclusion ever since. At first the creatures of the forest were wary of me but in the end _he_ came to me – the noblest of all beasts – and now, thanks to you, he is gone. So tell me, why should I restore your friend?"

Hercules felt the first stirrings of sympathy towards the woman as she told her tale. She was a witch though, he firmly told himself, and he had never heard any good of her kind. His own dealings with Circe had only served to strengthen his opinions in the matter.

Still the witch had not tried to kill him yet, so perhaps that counted for something.

"Because it is the right thing to do," he found himself saying.

"Who is to say what is right and what is wrong?" the witch replied. "Are you so sure that all your actions are always right? What would you do if your only friend was taken from you? Would you not wish for revenge?"

"Yes," Hercules admitted. "But I wouldn't hurt someone who was innocent."

What was stopping him, he wondered, from plunging his sword through the woman's throat? She was close enough that he could kill her before she could respond. Yet somehow it didn't seem right; didn't seem honourable. There was a time, not so very long ago, when Hercules would never even have thought about things like honour. He was honest enough with himself to admit that. Living in close proximity to someone who was a true hero (even if Hercules would only admit that to himself) was rubbing off.

The witch barked a laugh and paced around Hercules once more, coming to stop in front of him.

"There is no such thing as an innocent," she said. "All mankind is guilty in one degree or another." She looked sideways at Hercules through eyes that were half lowered to the floor. "Your loyalty to your friend is impressive," she complemented. "As was his to you."

"We protect each other," Hercules answered stiffly.

The witch stepped forwards until she was peering directly into the burly wrestler's face. She was younger than Hercules had thought now that he looked at her closely. His hand drifted unconsciously to the hilt of his sword and the witch laughed.

"You have seen my power," she said. "Do you really think that your sword could do anything to _me_? You would be dead before you drew it." She turned and stepped away from him. "Come," she said. "I grow tired of this. Perhaps it is as you said and you came upon my friend as he was dying and took the only action you could to aid him. Perhaps it is not as you said and you _did_ murder him. Either way it is for Hekate to judge." She sighed. "I was angry. I cast that spell in anger. I should not have done that. That which you seek to right the wrong done to your friend is over there." She waved her hand at a small natural shelf in the side of the cave. "Take it and be gone."

"Why should I trust you?" Hercules demanded.

"I may be many things but I am and have always been good for my word," the woman said softly. "If you have told the truth then no further harm will come to you or your friends… But," she added, "if you have lied to me… if you did murder the gryphon… Hekate will punish you… and your punishment will last until the end of your days and men will cringe at the thought of your fate forevermore."

Hercules swallowed hard and moved over to the ledge she had pointed to, more than a little nervous to be turning his back on the woman. To his surprise the small clay figure he had seen in her hands the day before lay there. Carefully he picked the thing up and tucked it into his belt, fully intending to smash the thing as soon as he was outside. He turned to see that the witch was crouching on the floor on the far side of the cave once more, her eyes burning into him.

"You have what you came for… now go," she instructed.

Hercules swallowed hard and did as he was told, hurrying to the entrance of the cave and squeezing himself through the narrow gap as quickly as he could before the woman changed her mind and used her magic on him. Once he stood in the open air again, some distance away from the cave, he took the clay figure out of his belt and stared at it. Could the witch have been honest with him? Was this innocuous looking doll really the key to breaking the spell she had placed on Jason? There was only one way to find out he supposed.

* * *

Pythagoras bit his lip as he picked berries (more for something to do than because he felt any desire to eat them); almost tearing them from the bush and shoving them into the bowl he had hastily grabbed from his bag and casting glances over his shoulder every few minutes to make sure that Jason was alright and hadn't moved. Not that he really expected the man to have moved to be honest. Before Hercules had left, Jason had at least been minimally responsive; not enough to interact properly but enough to follow simple instructions if necessary. In the time that had followed Hercules' departure, however, even that level of consciousness seemed to have faded away as the spell sped towards its final, devastating conclusion – and, really, Pythagoras' sharp mind could foresee only one conclusion if Hercules didn't succeed in breaking the enchantment – and that potential conclusion horrified him.

Another quick glance over Pythagoras' shoulder revealed that Jason was indeed still where he had left him. Pythagoras had propped his friend against a tree (reasoning that at least Jason was less likely to injure himself by falling as the remnants of his consciousness and motor control disappeared if he were propped against something) and he hadn't moved at all; was sitting with his hands loosely curled and limp in his lap, his face lax and his hazel eyes blank and unseeing. Pythagoras shuddered at the sight and turned back to the bush. He would do as Hercules had asked and look after Jason (of course he would! He needed no instruction from Hercules in that respect. Jason was his friend and Pythagoras would do everything in his power to keep the man as comfortable as he could), but he couldn't stand to see his friend so still and uncomprehending. The mathematician bit his lip. The faint rise and fall of his friend's chest was the only thing that told Pythagoras, Jason was still with him at all. The dreadful thing was that Pythagoras feared that soon even that would stop; that Jason's body would forget how to breathe and would simply cease to function altogether. The spell needed to be broken soon or it would be too late.

Pythagoras roughly grabbed another berry from the bush and dropped it into the bowl, savagely shoving the tears that threatened to escape him back down inside. Tears would do him no good right now. Hercules would be hungry when he returned from facing the witch and the least Pythagoras could do was make sure he had something to eat – however meagre that something might be.

He had been gone too long though. Pythagoras didn't think either one of his friends would ever understand just how hard it was being the one left behind to wait and worry. Hercules should have been back ages ago; should have come marching back with (quite probably exaggerated) tales of his own heroism, which both Pythagoras and Jason would have teased him over unmercifully. Instead there was no sign of him and Pythagoras had been left alone with a version of their other friend that he could have happily lived without seeing and hoped never to see again once this was all over.

The young genius' imagination went into overdrive. What if Hercules had been caught by the witch? What if she had turned him into something or, worse, killed him? What if Jason really _did_ stop breathing? What would Pythagoras do then if his two best friends in all the world (his only real family) were gone? Would there be any point in carrying on? It was almost enough to make him grab his sword (no matter how useless Hercules thought he was with it) and run off in search of his old friend. But how would he find Hercules anyway and what help did he really think he could be if the witch _had_ caught the burly wrestler? And what would happen to Jason if he left? He might not be able to do much for his younger friend at the moment (and being a healer, that thought galled Pythagoras more than anything) but at least he could stop him being attacked by wild animals when there was no way that he could defend himself.

The thought of losing both his friends was simply too much. Pythagoras savagely tore another overripe berry from the bush. It squished under his fingers, staining them a deep, dark red – much the colour of blood. With a low cry, Pythagoras dropped the bowl, his berry stained hands coming up to cover his face as his shoulders shook.

A pair of strong arms caught him around the shoulders and dragged him into a firm embrace. For the moment Pythagoras was too upset to analyse who those arms might belong to and simply stood still, allowing himself to be held. Then one of the hands moved from around his back and began to insistently tug his hands away from his face, as the other arm tightened even more, fingers splaying across the back of his tunic. Pythagoras raised his head.

"Jason!" he half exclaimed, half sobbed.

Jason looked back at him, his concern plainly written on his face.

"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

"Nothing," Pythagoras responded with a watery smile. "Nothing at all."

Jason frowned.

"Pythagoras, you're upset," he pointed out.

"I was," Pythagoras answered, giving an almost hysterical little laugh, "but I'm fine now. Everything's going to be fine now," he repeated.

He closed his eyes and let himself be held, relishing the feel of the steady rise and fall of Jason's chest against him. His friend was here; alive and alert and clearly remembering who the mathematician was. It seemed almost too good to be true after all the worry of the day. And if Jason was alright then it meant that Hercules had succeeded. He could not have been killed or turned into some kind of animal or vegetable. He would come back to them, boasting about his skill and heroism and preening. Pythagoras would happily accept that outcome. He smiled.

"Everything's going to be fine," he repeated.

Jason pulled back and looked seriously at him for a moment, before casting his eyes around the surrounding area.

"This isn't where we set up camp last night," he observed.

"No," Pythagoras agreed. "No it is not."

Jason's eyes narrowed.

"Alright what's going on?" he asked sharply. "And where's Hercules?"

Pythagoras grinned.

"That, my friend, is a long story that involves a lot of worrying and a certain amount of pacing," he said.

* * *

By the time Hercules made it back to the place where he had left his two friends he was weary. Although the sun had not yet dropped below the horizon, the shadows of early evening were definitely lengthening. It seemed that they would be spending another night in the forest as there was no way they would be able to make it back to Atlantis in daylight. Hercules sighed. His earlier feeling of relief when he had managed to get away from the witch's cave unscathed and destroyed the figurine he had taken from the woman had dissipated and now he found himself worrying about what he would find when he finally got back to his friends.

It was something of a surprise, therefore, to come through the trees to find a small campfire cheerfully crackling and Pythagoras laying out bed rolls, humming happily to himself. For a moment Hercules stood there with his mouth hanging open. The scene was so utterly domestic that somehow the burly wrestler couldn't quite get his head around it. Much as he had hoped that breaking the doll would break the enchantment he hadn't expected to see Pythagoras looking so relaxed.

A rustling in the bushes behind Hercules made him spin around, senses still on high alert. Jason pushed his way back through with his hunting bow slung loosely over his shoulder and three game birds hanging from one hand.

"Got them," he called to Pythagoras, holding up the birds.

Hercules gaped at him.

"Jason!" he gasped.

Jason favoured him with a bright grin.

"Hello," he said. "Pythagoras didn't think you could be much longer. We saw some partridges a little while ago so I went after them. Thought you'd probably like a decent meal." He looked at Hercules and his smile dropped away, his expression becoming serious. "Thank you," he said earnestly.

"There's no need to thank me," Hercules replied gruffly.

"Yes there is," Jason answered.

"Well in that case, you're welcome," Hercules said.

He threw one arm around his friend, pulling Jason towards him for a hug, feeling Jason's free arm snake up to clasp him briefly on the back. Then Hercules pushed himself away again.

"Those birds aren't going to cook themselves," he proclaimed. "So one of you two had better get on with cooking them."

"Why us?" Pythagoras asked. "Why can't you cook for once?"

"Because I've had a busy day filled with danger and heroism," Hercules answered, ignoring the amused look that passed between his two companions. "Get those birds plucked and in the pot, and while we wait for them to cook I'll tell you about how I tricked the witch. It's quite a story I promise you that."

Pythagoras grinned at Jason and took one of the birds from him, sitting down beside the fire and preparing to start plucking the partridge. Alongside him Jason did the same, mirroring the mathematician's position. Hercules sat himself on a log and prepared to hold court.

"I had to employ all my skills to find the witch's lair," he began. "But I am a man of pluck, wit and unfailing courage…"

As the big man started his tale and his two younger friends set about preparing supper, Pythagoras couldn't help smiling to himself. An evening full of good food and tall tales seemed ideal. All was once again right with the world.

 


End file.
